Two Immortals
by Man's Middle Moniker
Summary: These wayward immortals decide to see what it's like to be students. They're not sure whether it's going well or absolutely horrible. Hey, at least they know their history! [a bunch of interconnected one-shots of plot, (maybe) ridden with smut] [this is a preliminary experiment for a much more serious attempt]
1. C1: Shock Value

_The following information is subject to alterations!_

* * *

 _ **Two Immortals**_

 _ **(future title) A Pair of Immortals**_

* * *

 **Summary:** These wayward immortals decide to see what it's like to be students. They're not sure whether it's going well or absolutely horrible. Hey, at least they know their history! [a bunch of interconnected one-shots of plot, (maybe) ridden with smut] [this is a preliminary experiment for a much more serious attempt]

 **Character(s):** [Jaune A., Weiss S.] Pyrrha N. Ozpin

 **Genre(s):** General, Comedy

 **Ratings:** M

 **Warning(s):** _Smut, religious dogma_

 **Language(s):** English : English ;

 **Crossover(s):**

 **Beta(s):** _N/A._

 **End Notes:** Plot Bunny!

* * *

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own _RWBY_ , that belongs to _Monty Oum_ and _Rooster Teeth_ , extensively..

I do, however, own any and all _OCs_ , _AUs_ , and twisted _plot/Canon_.

Please support the official _releases_.

 _Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!_

* * *

 **Chapter #1:** _"Shock Value"_

 **Location:** _First Year Locker Rooms, Beacon Academy, Vale City_

 **Date:** _Sanuday, 1 Tesnum, 2305_

 **Time:** _11:35 IM_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Pyrrha Nikos, 17 cycles of age_

* * *

Pyrrha Nikos was an up and coming budding woman who held a thin sheet of certainty over a body full of anxiety and worry. She held close her reputation because that was what was expected of her: to always be the best of the best of the best [of her age bracket]. Her Semblance of Polarity, even after the past four years on live holovision, had been kept hidden under her guise of Invincibility - but in her defence, it had only been used a minute amount.

Entering Beacon was expected by many people as it was the top Hunter Academy _in the world_ , with Atlas close behind. She'd passed her written questionnaires with flying colors. Her physical examinations had been easy (despite her secret in that field: polarity - she could hardly lift more than 170 pounds). Her armor and weapon were approved as per the required field. Her personal accessories of earrings and her headdress were accepted to be worn in tandem with the school uniform, as they did not obstruct the initial ensemble.

She stood here donned in her custom armor set, a red leather corset covered by half bronze colored breastplate. A belted short skirt and cloth hanging down her waist, buckled by an etched insignia. Her left gauntlet and upper arm bracelet struck in great contrast to the pair of black arm warmers she wore. Her greaves were a golden bronze polish on her feet to thigh. Her spear and shield rested at her back, held by a magnet with complexity sometimes even beyond her, as they were forged by her uncle, Hephaestus Nikos, brother of Prometheus.

Her hands were clasped at her front, stance relatively relaxed (with one foot out in front, slightly crossing the one she leaned on). She'd been rocking back and forth, but the exchange before her set her features to one that shed an air of confusion to permeate the area around her.

The conversation had long since gone strange as the white haired Schnee she'd been conversing with levelled a glare on the blond across from her - the young man that had interrupted the conversation. He'd introduced himself, of course.

One Jaune Arc, only son of a family of nine - meaning only one thing.

Seven sisters.

Pyrrha Nikos was already a little bit envious of the young man, and having siblings had far outstripped the rest in her veiled jealousy. He'd come in dashing out of nowhere - with a feminine roll of hair rolling thickly, falling cleanly down his back - demanding the attention of the girl she'd clearly already held in a vice grip of...a random topic. But she'd heard his voice before. Not something too far in the past, no; she was fairly certain she'd heard arguing a few moments earlier with his particular voice, something about having better hair.

She'd have to keep her eye out for the other blonde.

He'd worn bright silver armor with countless scuffs deeply indented into it. The joints of his body that would be exposed to allow for movement were covered in chain link so thick the spaces between were blobs of black. His helmet was less of...well, an _actual_ helmet and more like the frame of one, though two marked fins fell behind his head stylized like dragons.

A confident smirk strained his face - **his mouth was cleanly bisected by a deep scar** \- _definitely_ reaching his blue orbs, storming like oceans themselves as they calculatingly studied Weiss Schnee.

In fact, his entire choice of armory reminded her of the Vacoan General of the Great War, though it was far less far fetched with his introduction. He was related to the Lost General, by name and appearance alone.

Weiss stood challengingly in her more-noble-than-practical armor set. A breastplate - _not that she needed it_ \- was clean of marks for the most parts, but the Schnee emblem resting on the silver metal was clear for the world to see. If she compared it to the dull gray of Winchester's armor, it would just barely be more ornate, since both important families shared arrogance in the form of ornery.

It was all a front; proof of her bloodline.

Half a tiara sat at the back of her head, indicating the location of the band that held the long mane of white behind her. It had almost rivalled her adversary, wide and frayed, but nowhere near the length he'd preferred. Not an ounce of skin, like his set, was exposed beneath her clavicle, and, like him, the joints were covered by a fine cloth metal invented by the Schnees to be comfortable.

Her glare was piercing, emanating from her one skyblue eye - **the left one was stark white and pupiless, a dark scar running vertically through it** \- thin brows furrowed. Her mouth was a thin line, unimpressed with Jaune.

The clothing she wore was greatly reminiscent of the Admiral of the Arkship Solitude, which has never been sealed away after the Great War, even though it should have been. In the history book descriptions, Pyrrha would certainly have mistook Weiss as the fabled Sarah Schnee, the sister to the beginning of the Schnee matriarchy. However, Weiss will be the testament to the first generation of the Schnee Patriarchy era, should her younger cousin, Whitely, take the throne of the Schnee Dust Company.

Also, _"Snow Angel?"_

"That's not my name, _Jaune_ ," Weiss said crossly, crossing her arms, leaning into a foot, and softening her glare in favor of raising her eyebrow in incredulity with his christening.

His smirk now preferred one side of his face as he leaned in to the right, eyes narrowing in amusement. "What _would_ you prefer?" he fished.

Pyrrha looked to Weiss, expecting her to quickly dismiss him and demand her true name, only to be struck by surprise when the woman spat out what she had.

 _"General?"_ Pyrrha wondered.

She was basically just a spectator to this.

Jaune, with his great confidence, struck forward a step. "What, like General _Snow_?" he queried, fully aware of his slipshod joke.

Weiss' head tilted, neck struck out to the side she was leaning on, and her eyebrows screwed up to define her current countenance, which displayed the look of _Really?_ without saying a word.

However, she _did_ speak.

"No."

So succinct, and with such authority. Pyrrha couldn't imagine many men averse to receive the answer unfazed like Jaune did, choosing to instead accept the answer sheepishly and walk away from what would normally be a far more chaotic confrontation. However, Jaune wasn't _many men_ and certainly held his ground of teasing. Which, now the Pyrrha thought about it, the Schnee was taking the proverbial assault in stride, likely used to the annoyance.

Pyrrha found it fun.

"And General _White_?"

"No," she replied.

"General Sil-"

" _Just_ General," Weiss leaned into her other leg more assertive with the order. Jaune was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "Jaune, this is Pyrrha Nikos," she waved to indicate her almost boredly, the other hand still resting under her elbow as support from when she was crossing her arms.

 _"When did they get so informal with each other?"_

She jumped when she realized that she should probably speak aloud, but with filtered thoughts, of course. "Hello!" she beamed with the smile she'd used during the commercials she'd agreed via contract. If only she had read the terms and conditions, she may not have signed most of them.

"She is the Mistralian four-time regional champion."

"That's me!" False enthusiasm.

"She is the spokesperson for Pumpkin Pete's."

"Sadly the cereal isn't too good for you."

She opened her eyes to find his face morphing into one of curiosity, "Oh, yeah, weren't you in the recent magazine for _Atlesia's Secrets_?" he asked.

Pyrrha blushed up a storm and sputtered, not expecting him to speak of _that_ particular publicity stunt. She hadn't realized what their version of _modelling_ entailed until after she'd arrived post-signing on site to begin shooting. Her head slightly turtled as she turned to the side, but she heard a slap, garnering her attention back onto the scene.

Jaune had a small handprint on his face, courtesy of the Schnee, who was positively miffed with him.

"That's rude, Jaune!" she chastised. "Apologise!"

"It was just a que-" he attempted to recover, only to be slapped again, _twice_.

"Apologise!" she demanded.

"At least you don't have a chancla," he mumbled quietly, before turning to Pyrrha.

"Don't make me get them," Weiss threatened under her breath.

As if he hadn't heard the small girl, he bowed to Pyrrha in the traditional manner she was used to seeing, and the redhead blinked. She hadn't expected to meet such a man from Vacuo who both knew of Mistralian custom and performed it for her sake. She raised her hand to her mouth and murmured, "Oh, my..."

She felt a glare aimed squarely at the back of her head, but mentally shrugged it off as her nerves prickling at her.

"Sorry, Lady Nikos," he smoothly apologised, as ordered, and raised himself to stand straight, a look of true remorse etching his face. She couldn't take it much longer.

"It's quite alright," she shut her eyes, albeit her smile was strained.

"However," he continued, "you'd be far more beautiful than you already were if you _truly_ smiled."

Her eyes shot open, startled by the statement. She half expected Weiss to smack him again for his rudeness, only to be astonished that the Schnee only stepped around her to nod with him. Pyrrha's head whipped back and forth to study their faces, searching for any form of deceit, only to find none of that, and only a more sinister looks on their faces.

Both of them had their dominant hands - left for the Schnee and right for the Arc - stretched under their chins with their opposite hands supporting them. With that, they both examined her current ensemble of clothes, and Pyrrha withered under their scrutiny.

"A-ano..." she quietly sputtered, red tainting her cheeks as she dipped into her old language. She looked anywhere but them. The lockers to her right, the benches to her left, the far wall- but wait! That's beyond them! She's looking at them again, and both of them are smirking.

"A simple dress may not cut it," Weiss spoke, catching Pyrrha's dumbfounded expression.

"Something low cut won't do it, either," Jaune added carelessly, and Pyrrha's eyes flicked over to him.

"Slit in the leg?" Weiss queried. She took Pyrrha's attention.

"A basic skirt," he countered.

Pyrrha realized what they were doing! This was the same as the photoshoots, only far less modest in terms of the early on clothing. She only hoped they wouldn't stoop as low as the _Atlesia Secret_ agents had. She had enough embarrassment to last her a _lifetime_.

"How short?"

"How short's a maid outfit skirt?"

 _"A maid outfit?!"_ Pyrrha thought, eyes widening.

"Short," Weiss answered casually, leaning forward. "Hair up or down?"

"Up," Jaune replied, searching her face. "Neck is _always_ best."

Pyrrha finally found it in her to finally react using words. "W-what are you two doing?!"

"Thinking about what to dress you up in, of course," Jaune said, and her eyes snapped to his.

He hadn't been fazed once by her incredulous and scandalised look. "What makes you think I'm going to let you do that?!"

"Because I'll get your parents to sign a contract," Weiss jumped in.

"Why are you okay with this?!" Pyrrha shouted, waving her hands wildly. "You should be slapping him!"

She finally gave her eyes a once over, looking positively confused with Pyrrha's words. "Why?" she asked, and Pyrrha only lowered her jaw. "I want to see you in a maid outfit myself."

 _"Dear God in Heaven,"_ Pyrrha started, falling backwards. _"They're both perverts!"_

* * *

 **Time:** _11:57 IM_

 **POV 1:** _third, (slightly un-)limited, Jaune Arc_

 **POV 2:** _third, (slightly un-)limited, Weiss Schnee_

* * *

Jaune rushed in to catch her at the speed of light, beginning to pump Aura directly into the back of her neck using his Semblance. Weiss only sighed.

"I didn't imagine she would be so susceptible to lightheadedness when exposed to such open and public perversion," she lamented. "I was hoping for more. She is _so_ innocent," she blinked slowly, slightly bored. She looked up to Jaune. "Are you waking her up? I was hoping for a short and private conversation."

"Slowly," he answered, equally disinterested. "Can't have the Mistralian four-time regional tournament champion fainting right before Initiation, after all." He narrowed his eyes and looked at his companion. "Speaking of which, how is she?"

Weiss gave Pyrrha a once over. "She looks fine, other than being pale from our assault-"

"No," Jaune cut her off with a shake of his head. "Combat wise," he corrected.

"Ah," she shook her head left and right. "She's alright for someone her age," she finally said, looking back down at the girl in his arms. "Her Semblance is Polarity. She's done well to hide it, but to someone like us, it's fairly obvious." She leaned in to hover over the woman and check for anything else out of the ordinary. Other than some more sweat beyond what was normal and a pale complexion, there was nothing out of place. "Her fighting style is a brutal mix of Mistralian and Vacoan martial arts in close quarters combat _and_ weapons combat." She looked back up at him. "And on your end?"

"She's got a lot of help," he began, looking up at her weapons. "She's got Valen-level engineering techniques thanks to her Uncle and her father's reputation to forge it with Atlas-grade weapons technology."

She smiled mischievously. "I wonder if Watts likes his magnet design being thrown around to so-called _prodigies_ ," she speculated, before sobering herself of her short-lived elation. "Though, with everything Pyrrha's like, I really _do_ think she's a prodigy."

"Think she can take it?" he asked, looking at her seriously.

She studied his face. "With the right incentive, we can make her do anything," she said honestly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Am I really playing _crush_ again?"

She hid a smile. "You know you like it."

"Come on, Sarah, it's like, _every_ time!"

"Quit your whining, Elias. It's not my fault we always chose women."

* * *

 **End Chapter 1**

* * *

 _ **Comments**_ _will be here_

* * *

 _ **Dictionary:**_

 **Ano:** "Umm..."

* * *

 **References:**

 **Atlesia's Secret:** _Victoria's Secret_

* * *

 _And now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!_


	2. C2: Warbled Junipers

_**A/N:** Wow! I'm really surprised that this fic's follows and favorites just jumped! out of nowhere! This is still a preliminary experiment and meant to be a funnier version of what is supposed to be a very serious fic. Although, since the comedy value is getting positive feedback, there will be some jokes in here that will carry over the more serious one._

 ** _ALSO, NOTE THAT THE "OMAKE" AT THE END IS STILL A WORK IN PROGRESS AND WILL NOT BE COPY/PASTED INTO THE TRUE FIC!_**

 _ **ALSO, ALSO, NOTE THAT I WROTE MOST OF THIS WITH NO INTERNET AND AT CAMP, SO IF SOMETHING SEEMS REPETITIVE, IT'S BECAUSE I HAD NO ACCESS TO A THESAURUS AND I WAS TOO LAZY TO FIX IT**_

* * *

 _The following information is subject to alterations!_

* * *

 ** _Two Immortals_**

 ** _(future title) A Pair of Immortals_**

* * *

 _Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!_

* * *

 **Chapter #2:** _"Warbled Junipers"_

 **Location:** _WRBL Dorm Room, Beacon Academy_

 **Date:** _Forsday, 2 Tesnum, 2305_

 **Time:** _9:08 IM_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Yang Xiao Long, 17 cycles of age_

* * *

Yang Xiao Long considered herself a woman of culture. She was a large and bodacious woman, and conducting herself in such a manner to be rather ostentatious with her open chestnut leather crop jacket, which revealed an orange midriff shirt - both of these hugged her form considerably. She wore a brown skirt and equally colored boots.

She was typically brazen; unabashed; outspoken with _any_ opinion she held for any moment with her more...

... _impartial_ methods of judgement.

She laid on her back, soundly _bored_ and out of her mind. Initiation had gone smoothly, and thanks to the combined efforts of Ruby and her partner, Weiss Schnee, they had defeated a Giant Nevermore and successfully completed all tasks. With the help of Juniper's current leader, Jaune Arc, they had also defeated an Elder Deathstalker that he and his partner accidentally walked into while distracted with one another.

A story and choice of words Yang chooses to hold over their heads.

Her teammates were a myriad of colors. Yang was no exception, though her blonde hair forced her to favor different colors of clothing to remain eclectic enough to maintain attention. But at the moment, her lilac eyes, which occasionally turned blood red, dully stared up at the ceiling.

Blake and Ruby were simpler in the regard of clothing. Blake preferred to wear complements of black and white with a little cute bow sitting soundly at the top of her head. Ruby's ensemble included a black and red corset and hoop skirt with combat boots of her own. Amber and Silver eyes, respectively, stood unchanged, but Weiss was the strangest of them.

Weiss was a woman of pride, and her icy attitude immediately clashed with hers. Every word was like a soft and subtle attempt to restrict the blonde of her freedom, and her reaction to the notion was greatly underexaggerated, as she preferred to deal with this problem like every other:

Punching the crap out of it.

Constraints and Yang mixed like water and oil - Yang being the oil. She became a Huntress searching for many things, but one of the firsts belonged to the idea of an interesting tomorrow. A tomorrow where something was always new. She wanted nothing to do with routines and wanted to _fight fight fight!_

Weiss was everything that didn't correlate with those things; she was imperious; overbearing; _oppressive_ over _every_ action Yang committed.

 _"Yang, don't do this!"_

 _"Yang, don't do that!"_

 _"Yang, don't dye that guy's hair!"_

 _"Blue is_ not _a good color for him!"_

 _"So you like 'em blond, eh?" She finger gunned at the girl, and Weiss gave her a look bordering on disinterest, and a hint of amusement._

 _"So you like 'em_ blue _?_ Ball _sy."_

Yang felt that Weiss could find a loophole in a square hole and manage to win any argument she presented. Yang had resorted to the cheesiest; undisciplined; _oldest_ joke to try and get under the Schnee's skin, but the company cousin endured every onslaught the blonde had pitched at the girl.

Every ball had been a home run.

Weiss had become the team leader of team Warble, which, for some reason, isn't really a color. Upon inquisition of the matter, Professor Ozpin had vaguely wrote off the idea as merely an experiment with the team - and he'd walked away when Weiss pointed out that it may ruin their Hunting careers. Yang couldn't care less, so long as she maintained her license to do as she wished to do.

Yang was normally more or less annoyed by the girl, but Weiss had immediately made Ruby her assistant in the field after having been assigned the position, though, which mitigated Yang's swirling emotions some, but it hadn't rid of the irritation entirely.

Blake had managed to isolate herself either somewhere in the room, or had managed to escape without alerting the remaining three of them. Ruby had located her gamepad after having nearly lost her mind - and her hair; her pull was very strong, Yang knew - and now she was currently playing one of her games, scrunching up her figure and groaning as if it helped her move better in game. Weiss only rolled her eyes with a smile before returning to her work.

Yang, having seen this, frowned and rolled over so that everything was upright, then stared at the back of Weiss' head, searching for something to say to the girl.

"Something up, Xiao Long?" Weiss asked, having not turned to detect her focus.

Immediately, Yang thought of a pun, but her adversary only looked at her and stole that chance right from under her feet, literally.

"Or more like _upside down_ ," she grinned, milking the following groan that Yang bellowed loudly while flipping over in despair and slapping her hands over her face, realizing that her chance was taken from her yet again.

"This must be what Ruby feels like!" she lamented aloud.

Ruby spoke up, not quite paying too much attention to the conversation, currently engrossed in her current form of entertainment. "You're _not_ wrong."

Weiss suddenly stood from the table she was at and activated a glyph to form under the table. Its hum was high pitched, but low in volume. The glyph was black and lifting the table.

"What are you doing?!" Ruby squawked, having had her legs propped up on the table. She wore jeans in lieu of her combat skirt at the moment. Rose petals _petalled_ the room as she dashed a meter away, startled by the sudden movement of an inanimate object like it had been possessed by a Geist Grimm.

The table began to spin, and Weiss smirked at Yang.

"And so the tables have turned in Ruby's favor!"

"God _dammit_!"

Yang exploded.

* * *

 **Location:** _JNPR Dorm Room, Beacon Academy_

 **Time:** _9:16 IM_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Pyrrha Nikos, 17 cycles of age_

* * *

Pyrrha Nikos considered herself as someone who could be very concerned and caring; someone who would take _both_ sides in a given argument and mitigate both down to something resembling a repairable relationship - whatever it was. Even if the altercation wasn't fueled by anger, she would mediate if things went out of hand.

This was not an ideal situation for someone like her.

"Nora, please get off of my bed."

"Array all the beds together and we can have a big bouncy castle."

Nora looked between Ren and Jaune, each speaking respectively, and landed on the latter.

"But our Fearless Leader has such a _wonderful_ idea!" she beamed happily, flipping off of her bed with said _Fearless Leader_ throwing up a white sign that read 10 on it in response. Ren only facepalmed as Nora moved to do as he suggested.

"You should be regulating her behavior," Ren chastised.

"She only listens to you."

"Evidently not."

Pyrrha wasn't sure whether the argument was between Jaune and Nora, Nora and Ren, or Jaune and Ren. At any rate, it could be all three simultaneously and Pyrrha would be unable to do a thing to stop it. Pyrrha, however, had managed to step in front of her bed before Nora could confiscate it, looking the young ginger in the eye.

"I'd like to keep my bed, please," she requested, and Nora thought for a moment.

She looked to Ren for help. "What's her favorite food?" she asked.

"Pancakes," he answered.

Pyrrha quickly turned a soft gaze on Nora, while inwardly smirking.

 _"Yes!"_ she inwardly shouted. _"Jaune won't be able to bribe Nora's playfulness with springy beds any longer! Ren will be on my side and the pervert won't be able to do a thing about it!"_ She fantasised. _"Oh, I'll cook delicious breakfasts in a maid's outfit and show him who's boss!"_

The idea of wearing a maid's outfit had crossed her mind, but she hadn't noticed.

Instead, she levelled her emotions before speaking. "Nora, I will cook you the special Mistrali brand of maple Pancakes if you only put Jaune and your beds together."

"Oka-"

"I can cook _all_ types of pancakes," Jaune countered. " _You_ _-_ " he meant Nora "-have options."

 _"No!"_ Pyrrha whirled on him, eyes narrowing dangerously and landing a glare on him. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I...I can have _selections_?!" Nora prospected.

Pyrrha attempted to interject, barely salvaging any amount of the situation. "Nora, please, what if I wear a-"

"And more than just pancakes," he leaned in to Nora. " _Waffles, too_ _._ "

 _"NO!"_

"Guess we can sleep on _oooonnnneee big trampolineeee_!" Nora sang, sprinting around Pyrrha.

 _"I'm going to_ throttle _him!"_

* * *

 **End Chapter 2**

* * *

 **Comments:**

 **Artyom-Dreizehn:** "Oh my! Liking this concept and looking forward to see the next one!"

 **Reply:** "Thank you! Here it is! A little one and degrading by the end of each segment, but I tried! The true version of this fic should be far better! I promise!"

 **ZenithTempest:** "Oh I love this. It's a comedic take on the immortal/time travel/reincarnation storyline with Weiss and Jaune as perverts screwing around for fun. I must have more!"

 **Reply:** "I'm glad you do love this! And, yes, it is. The original idea was inspired by the desire for a time travel fic with edgy characters. Rereading Divergence and Not this time, Fate by their respective authors wasn't enough for me, so I did my best to try and emulate a feel for it through the immortal route, which I see few fics of.

"Time travel can be my favorite sort of drama, because it places the protagonist - one that has already experienced the situation - in a special position of development. They have to overcome those same obstacles with the decision of not only when they start altering future events, but how they do it. Because it's a domino effect, and if they screw up, it could end up becoming worse than before.

"Also the whole perverted thing? They're bored to all hell. They have to."

 **Bartholomew Black:** "Sign me up for this! I'm loving it!"

 **Reply: muttering...scribbling...**

 **Majin Othinus:** "MMOOAARR!"

 **Reply: incoherent screeching and typing**

 **Celestia's Paladin:** "So Immortal Weiss and Jaune, who remarkably still act like their canonselves... Ok Jaune does, Weiss not so much to a point. So picking in Pyrrha, Oz has to know who they are and is in on it, and... Damn frst time I've seen in fic form that Weiss is blind in her left eye. Gonna to follow"

 **Reply:** In the far more serious version of this fic, Weiss is going to be closer to her canonself, but more or less, yes, freer in her behavior, like here. They picked on Pyrrha because she's a target for future plans - and that's all I'm giving you - and, funnily enough, Ozpin just knows they're there. He knows they're immortal but not the idea that they are immortal (immortal senses - one can see the others sort of thing - but he hasn't connected the dots just yet). And, well, I was just going for a whole Skyrim face scar preset where the character has a white eye but the blindness thing is interesting. I'm making that a facet in the story now. Thanks for the follow!

 **csad21:** "I'll be frank. This sounds like it will be a lot of fun. But want to recoil away from this story in horror with the expectancy of blatant Gary Stu-ing. Why? The two scars you gave Jaune and Weiss and then found the need to write them in bold text, thus signifying it'll be important and come up often in future. That is a huge turnoff. (A scar on the mouth may *see,* cool to certain type of people, but it's disgusting and a huge inconvenience.)

"Maybe it's me overreacting (So-called "cool" scars seem to be a staple for Gary Stu fics in my experience) but I did want to point it out unless you know you're writing a Jaune In Name Only fic and thus the impression this character gives off is deliberate. In this case ignore me please."

 **Reply:** "Well, you have given me some things to think about. In the meantime - and bear with me here, please - it is a little bit Gary Stu, since this one is mostly just a preliminary experiment for the real thing. In the real thing, he'll be very powerful, but will have good reason for it. I want to be able to develop his character right in the up and coming true fic, and it won't just be comedic fun and games, as there will be an underlying plot in the works.

"I am going to revamp Jaune's scar, and even though it'll be mentioned in his past here it will be removed in the real fic. I'm just going to ask you to please bear with this for a little bit longer, or just wait for the more serious one to come out. Thanks for the review!"

* * *

 _And now, for the love of God, let the ne-_

* * *

 ** _FUTURE CONTENT INBOUND_**

 ** _NOTE THE MAGIC THING MAY BE EXPLAINED OR REMOVED IN THE REAL FIC_**

* * *

Anthony walked across the landscape, head downtrodden, but eyes dashing everywhere ahead of him, searching for one thing, and one thing only. Over this once green plains was blood; _blood; blood_ of incomprehensible soldiers, wearing the armor of both nations, sprawled over one another with little to no abandon. The land they had fought their lives on had been renamed:

 _Forever Fall._

The blood will forever mark the territory, of the fall of a pair of nations as they forge a pact into a new one, a treaty now in place protecting the soldiers of both armies that currently patrolled the area, searching bodies for coroners.

But Anthony was no mere soldier. He was a brother on a mission. There was only one man he was looking for: dead or alive. Preferably the latter, but his hope was dying with each second he walked across the field of bodies, ripe for the world to take. Magic swirled in the space above them like wind, quickly evaporating and soon reappearing somewhere else, polluting the air and sulleying the green of the land by replacing the hue with red.

Anthony was red-green colorblind, and so was his brother.

More often than not, his metal boots crunched the rotting corpses beneath them, metal groaning underfoot and caving into the space that had been left behind by the bodies that decayed refertilizing the land beneath them.

They took from nature; nature was bound to take it back.

There was a small clearing, a meter by meter wide, with a body sticking inwards that he recognized immediately.

It was his brother, Elias.

He had a blade deeply embedded in his left side, piercing him, His left side was facing up. His hands wrapped around the handle with an iron grip, and the gleaming silver stuck out of his back. He lay in a fetal position, eyes dull and empty, mouth slightly agape. He'd died without hope, gasping his last breath. There wasn't a woman to roll off that breath - his brother had taken a lot of the credit, as Elias had been content with a basic captain's position.

Anthony was the general that sent them out. And Anthony was held back by the Valen nation from moving ahead.

They'd lost too many generals before.

And now, Mistral called for a truce. They'd recognized Vale now, their undying desire to be free of them, and Mistral had noticed a trend - a losing trend. If they'd continued the war, the Valens would grow strong enough to cross the _Midnight Sea_ and attack, and they were not looking forward to a land invasion from what was once a colony, so they backed off.

The Valen nation, now recognized by their adversaries, drew the attention of Atlas, who agreed to back them in the court room. They'd sent envoys who would enter the open cemetary and aid the coroners and mourning brothers and sisters of both sides.

Anthony hadn't cared what he sat on, but he sat down. He didn't care that it caved too much and that he'd piled another body - Valen this time - on top of the first for a better elevation for his aching legs. He sat there and stared at Jaune's body, occasionally taking a drink, and eating his rations.

 _"Doesn't taste like much,"_ he mused, mind drifting between distraction and body of his only family, _"Not so good and not so bad."_

He thought about the situations that the lands were currently in. A stalemate, and a de facto ceasefire had botched his chances to be vindictive and cut down as many foes as he could, somewhere to direct his grief and anger on.

But now there was nothing.

He'd sat there a good hour now, and, as was inevitable, another soldier had wandered passed. A Mistrali one, looks like.

They locked eyes for a moment, the Mistrali holding what appeared to be a ring in his right hand. They'd nodded to each other, anger bubbling under their skin bubbling down to something more mitigated, and he left Anthony to his grieving.

A few hours pass, and in that time, two other Mistrali soldiers and a Valen one cross paths with him, repeat their condolences, and leave, heading back to the front, having done their grieving.

On the fifth hour, Anthony begins to drift asleep, eyes fluttering and vision blurring, he's left to do nothing but embrace sleep. His arms weigh heavier, his head falling forth, he is about to fall unconscious, only to hear a rustling; a squelching ahead of him, like a foot to mud.

But it hadn't rained.

He suddenly whips his head forward as the squelching, moist sound reaches his ears again, _louder_ this time, and he abruptly stands and spins his head around, attempting to pinpoint the origin. It is ahead of him, and he stalks forward, knees bent in a firm stance as he does so, hand over his military issue blade.

In front of him, a fleshy looking substance leaks out of his brother's back wound like tentacles, wrapping around the blade and tearing at the edges. As if intelligent, they back off for a moment, like they are _studying_ the thing, before suddenly _thickening_ and wrapping around the blade with much more force; much more...conviction, before _pulling_ on it to dislodge it.

The blade shifts, blood splattering it and the ground, pooling beneath Elias much more than it already had, staining the already blood red grass. Anthony stood equally flabberghasted as he was disgusted with it, yet still a look of wonder and hope welling in his facial features. The blade shifted again, squelching through the hollow body of his brother, until the blade was free.

With that, like magic, the blood surrounding him flew back into his wound, reversing the damage and leaving him clean. Magic abruptly turned from their ritualistic dances in the wind and approached Elias, swirling all around him, swaths of color ordering into letters and symbols beyond Anthony's understanding, circling the paths of blood to smooth the paths, curving elegantly rather than chaotically.

Eventually, the wound closed, leaving a nasty, black scar in its wake. Anthony had only noticed now, but the other wound was also over Elias' lip, where a downward strike had cleaved his thin mask - he'd told him off before. He'd tell him off again at any rate, since color began to darken his skin color from its once pale palette, returning it to its former state, something that filled Anthony with hope.

He stood there, hand away from his blade, stance waiting, as his brother lay there as if sleeping, chest expanding and deflating as air permeated his living being, giving him life once more. He glew white, his Aura appearing to extend away from his body, probing the old wounds, and finding them unresponsive but clean and healed, the Aura settled again. But not before one, final strand's end floated towards Anthony.

As if bewitched, Anthony raised his hand, calling on his Aura. The beginning of it faded into view midway down his upper arm, floating towards his hand to touch his brother's Aura, and like a starved man, it greedily sipped on his Aura. Anthony, gaining control over himself once more, and with conviction and hope swirling into one - determination - he began to push it into his brother, and his brother Aura drank all the same, before finally popping off of his hand and settling over Elias' body. The Aura had been aided, and it would rejuvenate him.

Anthony wasn't done, though, as his patience waned. He knelt before his brother, and held his hands over his body.

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality, in the same mud we bleed for our friends and foes alike, all for the sake of a new world. I bind you, Elias Almilta, to the destiny of binding people together under one banner, and by my hand, _empower you_."

Elias' Aura froze before fading into his body, and Elias' eyes shot open.

* * *

 **End Future Content 1**

* * *

 _And now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!_


	3. C3: Devout Followers

**QUICK CHAP**

* * *

 _ **Two Immortals**_

 _ **(future title) A Pair of Immortals**_

* * *

 _Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!_

* * *

 **Chapter #3:** _"Devout Followers"_

 **Location:** _Combat Classroom 04, Beacon Academy_

 **Date:** _Mantiday, 5 Tesnum, 2305_

 **Time:** _11:03 IM_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Elias Arc_

* * *

Don't misunderstand, Cardin Winchester was just a kid. A young, impressionable child, who just so happened to have some of the worst parents. His siblings weren't too far off - but having been thrust into a world with other people he was unfamiliar with, vexation was ripe for the ceding.

His stature wasn't wide, but still buff. His cold steel gray armor with his crest emblazoned across the torso greatly identified him as a highborn family, much like the snow angel he'd come to eventually lay his eyes on. Noble families normally marry off their children, and he'd have no trouble attempting to manipulate his father into trying the attention of the Schnee family for the chance of the company cousin. Maybe they could rocket back up the scales.

Let no one tell Cardin he wasn't a softie, but never let them initially think it either. He was a tough man on the outside, but on the inside: it was all the kitten cuddles, it was all the cookies, anything adorable or hype inducing that got his attention. He even preferred alternative music to raw rock!

That didn't mitigate his failure to regard his fellow human, as his perspective was greatly warped at the hands of his parents, who recoiled at the thought of Human-Faunus relations. Cardin was only acting as his parents had, as they were his only example of the right kind of person in the world, so he'd been pitied.

Jaune was well aware of Cardin's past, as he was an up and coming candidate for he and Weiss' little experiment. Having chosen Pyrrha, however, that rendered all of Cardin's information a moot point, but that didn't mean squat in its tactical power during a battle.

And arc curved through the air as Jaune struck forward in a vicious slash, face neutral, as he lunged against Cardin's mace, which was abruptly thrown off to the side. Cardin, who moved to recover, used his momentum to hit harder.

Seeing this, Jaune stepped away from the fight, letting the mace pass ahead of him and throwing Cardin off balance, since he hadn't readjusted his footing properly to make up for the _pull_ his mace had on his body due to centrifugal forces.

While Cardin was recovering from his wayward swing, Jaune took a moment to sigh, looking up at the screen to find his Aura full, and his opponent's at 57%. He shut his eyes and shook his head, before refocusing on his opponent. Had to look like a first year, after all, though he'd still been curbstomping the poor student.

If he and Weiss were looking more for potential than someone who was already the best in the world [of their age bracket], then he would have bothered with _this_ guy - mostly because he preferred cats, though!

Pyrrha hated cats - at least from what Weiss had told him.

He attached Crocea Mors' sheith to his arm before letting it expand into a shield, taking a more serious stance in front of cardin, armor crinkling more satisfyingly than Cardin's, which was made more for nobility than practical use. His eyes were just above the aegis he raised, legs bent, left foot forward as he stalked towards the young man, sword's point _pointedly_ \- he's been spending too much time around Yang - _pointed_ at Cardin.

Cardin sprinted forward first, easily crossing the ten meters without much restraint. For someone so large, carrying something so heavy, Jaune had to give him credit where credit was due. Though, if he was strong enough to carry around _that set of armor and weapon_ so easily, then he should have gone for heavier equipment after practicing his swing with this set, to maximise his efforts. Otherwise, it's all just a glorified knight set - and quite literally being an ancient knight, Jaune knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.

As Cardin's mace lowered over Jaune, Jaune quickly parried the weapon with a shield bash, causing Cardin's eyes to widen greatly, his weapon being forced out back to the side.

With that, Jaune _rushed_ forward in a whirlwind, travelling under the mace and his arm, trailing his weapon behind him and _glancing_ the side of his armor. Cardin recoiled, crumpling under the attacked region. Jaune continued running around to the back of Cardin before attacking at his more exposed lower back. A gray Aura sparkled as Jaune's blade crashed against it, and his Aura kept lowering.

Jaune glanced at the scoreboard. _"33%."_

He sheathed his weapon as Cardin got back up, and the boy snarled at him.

"What?" he spat. "Given up?"

Jaune maniacally smiled at his opponent, before raising his fists.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I hate my ability to write fight scenes. Hopefully, I can get my friend to beta at some point._

 **Location:** _Courtyard, Beacon Academy_

 **Time:** _12:03 AN_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Blake Belladonna, 17 cycles of age_

* * *

Blake was a quiet individual, preferring to remain off to the side in a more secluded location, away from prying eyes and tongues that grated on her ears. Her eyes could scan a page and absorb its information easily, which allowed her an advantage over her more energetic classmates that were averse to the reading material assigned to them.

"Color me impressed, Elias; you held back."

She was a Faunus. Her hearing was superior. Their voices were quiet enough for their teammates when the pair spoke nearby, but not for her. Although her hearing was shot thanks to the bow that rested over her head to conceal her higher set, it was still far more excellent than the best of humans could muster.

"No point in beating him senseless. Goodwitch wouldn't've let me, at any rate."

She'd read this book a thousand times. Its selection was purposeful. She intended to learn the secrets of her teammate and acquaintance's appearances. They were _far_ too close to the original designs than one might initially determine at first glance.

"Nonetheless; did you find anything of interest?"

She'd escaped far off to the library in the past few days to gather the knowledge she desired, to ascertain the truth behind their similar appearances, fighting styles, speech patterns, and etiquette.

"Nothing more than base potential wasted by a bigot."

Unfortunately for her queries, her mission was unsuccessful in the regards of personal information, since the results of their actions were more importantly labelled than the _how_ they did it. She'd concluded that a similar outcome would occur given she asked the two directly, and she herself wasn't exactly either a people person _or_ one to start conversations. Talking was Yang's forte's, not hers.

"Shame. He may have been useful in the long run."

She'd heard conversations like this before, mostly when they'd happened to walk by one of her hiding places. At first glance, it appeared as if they'd busted her location and she'd have to search for a new one, but they didn't look at her nor did they intrude. They simply walked and spoke - most of the time around the statue of Jaune's ancestor from the Great War. She'd wondered what _"-nostalgia-"_ meant to the blond boy, anyway.

"Not as useful as the members on our teams. A _combo_ of them, Sarah? Come on! They _don't_ grow on trees, unless human experimentation was on the table when we weren't paying attention."

Their constant indecipherable ramblings and intent to refer to each other by their ancestors' names had been mind blowing. Blake hadn't been more confused _in her life_ , aside from more personal matters regarding human treatment of Faunus during her glory days in the White Fang. She _still_ had that mask lying around somewhere. She'd hoped her team would never discover it.

"Don't be so stuck up, Almilta," Weiss - _"Or Sarah?"_ Blake wondered - snapped lightly, still holding her head high - despite being under his shoulder either way - "Pepp may still come through with us for modifications on Pyrrha's current armaments and armory."

Despite her surprise, she held her face in a neutral countenance. If she reacted, it would give away her hearing and alert her teammates, who suspected her head to always be buried under the pages of an old tome. She'd refute them, if she wanted to lower her concentration on her target's voices over her teammate's ineptitude, but her current curiosity was of higher import.

"We wouldn't have to rely on a Champion if the White Fang's goal wasn't twisted."

To Blake's credit, she'd held fast her surprise.

"Ghira Belladonna is a good man," Sarah replied. "However, he was _far too nice_. He would aid humanity and Fauna in the best way he could, but the truth would cloud his efforts."

Blake couldn't hold back anymore, lowering her book and shutting it closed. She'd swung her bag around to deposited it before readjusting the heavy thing onto her back. Even if it hurt her back a little, she kept everything in there. There was an on-campus chiropractor she visited weekly anyway. She ignored her partner's inquiry, for it nearly overshadowed Elias' response.

"We could have facilitated Human-Faunus relations, but I see the security risks."

Security risks, for what?

"Blake."

Why do they keep referring to each other by their ancestors' names? Is it an inside joke? _"Is it an unconscious rivalry?"_

"Buh-lah-kay."

It would make sense. Their ancestors were great adversaries during the wars. Perhaps they have a grudge? A promise passed down the lines that demanded they fight? But what could they _possibly_ be hiding _together_ that would involve the _White Fang_ of all organisations?!

"BLAKE!"

"Wuh!" Blake whipped around hard enough to to smack Ruby upside the head and cause _her_ distress. She met eye to eye with the blonde on the better days, but their contrasting personalities had made it difficult for Blake to hang around with.

"What is up with you today?" Yang asked, exasperated. "We decide to trail our resident troublemakers and you put your book away for some reason _and_ you perk up when Jaune and Weiss are saying anything. Can you hear what they're saying?"

Blake blinked.

She _hadn't_ been holding her emotions back?

"No," she denied, "I just got tired of hearing your clumsy footsteps. They know we're here."

"What?!" she spun around to find the two walking towards them.

"Good luck," Blake said, disappearing out of Yang's reach.

Blake heard Yang scream in the distance - something about having sex with their mothers.

* * *

 **Location:** _Cafeteria, Beacon Academy_

 **Time:** _12:33 AN_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Lie Ren, 17 cycles of age_

* * *

Lie Ren was confident in his cooled attitude. He was fairly certain that since he could deal with his friend, Nora Valkyrie, he could deal with _anything_.

He wasn't certain how to handle the book hoarder herself texting him for a meet up - _alone_ \- at the Cafeteria, though. He'd suspected that Nora's mouth might get them in trouble, if she reached out to _him_ of all people.

"It's about El-uh, _Jaune_ ," Blake corrected herself.

Ren narrowed his eyes minutely before he could stop himself, and Blake caught it, much to his short-lived dismay.

"I'm not sure why," Blake began, likely to elaborate, Ren surmised, "but the two have come to refer to each other by their ancestors' names." She looked at him. "Elias and Sarah."

Ren mulled over the information. Elias Almilta was a highly despised name in his old town of Kuroyuri - many called him a traitor. He was simply the _Lost General_ , having earned the title after he had died in the final conflict of the Valen Revolutionary War. Sarah Schutzstaffel was an even _further_ hated name, referring to a witch that had somehow entered Mistrali borders. When it was proven that her sisters, Christa and Emilia, were devoid of witchcraft, the family was renamed _Schnee_.

Ren closed his eyes for a moment, nursing a forming headache with the side of his cold beverage - a tea with four sugars.

After a moment, he took a sip and placed his teacup back onto the saucer plate beneath him, straightening his back in a business manner, then looked at Blake, who perked up.

 _"Did her bow twitch?"_

"Why have you come to me with this information?" he asked. "It's not enough to suspect foul play of any manner."

"There's more," Blake retaliated lightly, sitting up straighter. He narrowed his eyes when she wasn't looking, finding that she was familiar with the position. What would a _bookworm_ need with that posture? "I just want your help."

"With what?" he queried, taking another tentative sip.

"I want to know what sort of relationship these two have," she postulated, _pointedly_ forgetting their names. "They have mentioned a _Pepp_ , but I feel that is merely a code name. They have implied a sort of organisation they're running together - one that would benefit from the help of a pre-violence White Fang."

"Would this organisation aid them in turn?"

"They said so explicitly, yes."

Ren caved, placing his elbows on the table and massaging his temple with his right hand, left hand helping him to another helping of tea by pouring the kettle into it. After he took another sip, he sighed, and rested his head in both of his hands. When did it come to this? The first day of school, less than a _week_ after Initiation, and he's thinking about _stalking_ his leader for information?

"Why not ask?" he stalled.

She leaned forward onto the table herself. "I fear they will simply deflect, or worse, grow agitated. I just want to _know_."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said, missing her glare.

He heard her grit her teeth. "But satisfaction brought it back," she argued.

"Fine, _fine_ ," he finally caved. "But do not attempt to do anything to _ruin_ their plans," he began, looking at her finally. Her gaze softened, a sigh of relief passing her lips. _Focus_. "They don't sound evil as much as they do sound suspicious. They're helping at every sentence."

"There's more."

Sigh. "Lay it on me."

* * *

 **End Chapter 3**

* * *

 **Comments:**

 **Celestia's Paladin:** "You're welcome, and I have passed this along to the White Knight Discord Server. Can't help but to share it. Pyrrha's innocence does make it easier to pick on her, and it rather enjoyable seeing her flustered. AS for the Weiss' eye, as I said haven't really seen it done all that much and only one artist that I know of has her blind in one eye consistently.

"I do look forward to seeing more"

 **Reply:** "YO, A DISCORD SERVER! There'll be more of Pyrrha's innocent nature being sullied. Can you tell me the name of the artist. May feature artwork - if you know them better than I do, could you ask for me - pretty please with a cherry on top? I look forward to posting more, too~"

 **Artyom-Dreizehn:** "Why recoil from Gary Stu? some fics are successful and enjoyable to read, even OP characters or mc's are fun to read if the author play his/her cards right.

"I read a fic called Behind Containment Doors, the MC is OP as shit, but it's not about the OPness is all the story about, it's his interaction with the Androids, why he's human but yet not the same and how his presence really diverge a lot of stuff from canon.

"Anyway! So this is a prototype? well looking forward to the more refined and polished version! Thumbs up!"

 **Reply:** "Everyone's entitled to their own opinions, and they came back to restate their posture on the matter. No biggie.

"I _have been_ reading that one, too. It's pretty good, even if I know next to _nothing_ about SCP at all, I _do_ love OC x A2 fics. Specifically the ones where the OC is human!

"Yes! I intend to release the official version sometime in the future, when I'm halfway finished with screwing around with the V3 material and other original material, should it be given to me to work with. I'll release a template later if I'm feeling up to it. See ya, Space Cowboy (need to see Cowboy Bebop)!"

 **csad21:** "Thank you for taking my previous comment well.

"But I should elaborate to remove misunderstandings, so please bear with me:

"I do not mind overpowered characters. In fact, I adore overpowered characters curbstomping their enemies, especially when thus canonically awful battles end up hilariously anticlimactic and the whole world is thrown into an uproar with wide-ranging new consequences. It's why I adore well-written crossover stories where a powerful character from one fandom goes into the world of the other fandom and takes care of the enemies there with an ease the heroes of that fandom have never seen. Like, can you imagine how easily SS3 Son Goku could get rid of Salem? Or a post-Kaguya Naruto? And the ramifications of their very existence in the RWBY world? That sort of story can be immensely fun instead of boring in the hands of a good writer. Who cares about balance and fair play etc.? Similarly, overpowering a canon character (provided the author can sell it well) can be just as much fun, whether the story is genre: comedy or genre: action/adventure. It's all dependent on the author's abilities.

"Long rambling short: I don't automatically call overpowered characters Gary Stu/Mary Sue. My definition goes more along the lines of the tv tropes definition for "Marty Stu"/"Mary Sue". The power scale alone was not alarming. As long as Jaune and Weiss are still recognisable as the Jaune and Weiss we know and love (at most modified just enough to account for their long life as immortals), and not, say, Angsty McEdgelord running around calling himself "Jaune Arc", all is well. Know what I mean? (Otherwise the author might as well stop the pretense and call the character "Original Character".) It's just that the overpowered character plus horrifying and impractical but supposedly "cool" scar just set the alarm bells for me and freaked me out. I'm very happy that you intend to get rid of it in the new version of this story.

"But if your goal is to make *Jaune and Weiss* (and not their In Name Only versions) overpowered enough to curbstomp their opponents, I'm all for it and cheering for you very loudly! :) (Even better when that leads to different consequences stemming from their actions.)

"Especially if, as you said, you*re going to give them a backstory good enough to back it up.

"That said, I'm enjoying Weiss and Jaune messing with their teammates, as they did in this chapter. Especially the fact that Nora got an enabler! Ahaha! *That* one is gold. Poor, poor Ren and Pyrrha!

"That omake is very, very interesting. Makes you wonder..."

 **Reply:** "Kind of _have to_ these days. My first days on this website _were not good_. I snapped at people who mentioned the whole nine yards about OP characters - 'specially mine. Hoping to change that.

"SAMESAMESAMESAME! KINDERED SPIRIT, YESS! I absolutely _hate it_ when someone screws that kind of genre over, but _love it_ when it works out well! Isekai, by the way. And, as much as I'd like to not draw lines, only information I know about Dragon Ball is DBZA and the first thirty to fifty episodes of Dragon Ball Super. I know next to _nothing_ about Naruto since I _abhor_ the large number count _solely on the idea of filler episodes alone_. Then again, I watch Bleach. I don't think I can sell battles very well, but I've been working on it and I hope to get my hands on a beta reader soon (friend of mine, you don't have to offer, if it don't work, I'll ask).

"I never really understood the exact definition of those terms other than "Overpowered perfect character", anyway. They aren't that powerful, anyway. I am actually trying to keep them as canon as possible in the main fic, though they may be a little angsty in the beginning because, well, it's shocking to die more than once and to see your loved ones slowly die out. I don't plan on making Jaune or Weiss as angsty as the Jaune in, say, "Edge of Life," still a good Angsty McEdgelord fic I liked a bit, but not something I liked for its practicality. Also, that mouth scar - I just wanted some facial scar that wasn't overly reminiscent of Weiss'. The black scars are representations of their first death.

"I really hope I don't actually have to do the curbstomping, but my writing in the fighting area could use a lot of help. I'm looking to a friend of mine to beta that.

"I'm developing that story, though I'm not sure how the final product is going to be, because I got some crazy ideas that need to be fully refined before starting on the original story.

"These chapters are mostly going to be them screwing with teammates and other people. Crack ships are fully available.

"Yeah, another part of the experiment. It's future content, yeah, but it's also only going to be in this fic, for the most part. Who knows? I may just 100% make Jaune from Vale in the first place rather than Vacoan, like I make out in most of my fics - but this works, I guess. Thanks again for the review."

 **darkvampirekisses: *dies laughing at thier antics***

 **:** "This is really interesting. Looking forward to the next chapter."

 **343:** "I love this concept"

 **rm928:** "This is great. The idea of Jaune and Weiss being immortal... womanizers? Perverts at least isnjust to much. That turn in chapter one from argument to "how would she look in a maid outfit" was great. And then again this chapter with the pancake debacle and the puns. Oh god the puns.

"Keep up the good work and update as you are able."

-rm928

 **Reply:** "Thank you, thank you~ Also, that part was rather... _out there_. I never initially intended for Jaune and Weiss do go parading around stealing panties or anything [but that _is_ an idea]. I don't even know how I came up with this stuff, I'm just on a roll.

"I just have to make it slightly more serious in the official fic.

"Thanks for the reviews!"

* * *

 **No more dictionary or references in this fic. That'll be involved in the regular fic.**

 **Not much other than AUs to deal with, anyway.**

* * *

 _And now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!_


	4. C4: Non-Stop

_**Quick A/N: This is**_ _still_ _ **an experimental concept. I'm going to jump a couple weeks to facilitate it towards V3 stuff, since I'm starting with the true material, which will be marginally better.**_

* * *

 _ **Two Immortals**_

 _ **(future title) A Pair of Immortals**_

* * *

 _Now, for the love of God, let this Fanfiction begin!_

* * *

 **Chapter #4:** _"Non-Stop"_

 **Location:** _Warble Dorm Room, Beacon Academy_

 **Date:** _, 31 Tocnum, 2305_

 **Time:** _7:09 IM_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Ruby Rose, 16 cycles of age_

* * *

"It's your birthday today?" Weiss queried, looking up from the desk under the windowsill. They'd moved it from the middle of the room after a disaster occurred when she'd used her Semblance for a pun. Ruby, Blake, and Yang wanted to prevent her from doing it again.

It didn't stop Weiss from stealing the second top bunk from the elder sister in the room and telling her she was on top. A double entendre, if there ever was one - and luckily Ruby wasn't in the room to overhear that lest the room be charred again.

"Yup!" Ruby shouted, zooming from off her bed in a whirlwind of petals and reappearing near her team leader. "What are you going to be for Halloween?!" Ruby asked, excited, grin splitting her face, and hands clasped together over her bosom.

"I don't celebrate Halloween," Weiss replied smoothly in and instant, closing her book and stuffing her bag with her supplies, finished with her homework tonight. "I'll buy you a big, fat cake, okay, Ruby?" she added, expecting the young girl to complain about her lack of participation in the 'holiday'.

"Okay," Ruby said slowly, shifting from foot to foot. "But why don't you do Halloween?" she wondered. Her hands were still clasped together, lowered as far down as they could go, a little bit nervous with the prospect of likely digging into her personal life. Blake had been on the receiving end of the anger of the company cousin, having stolen a ring that they found to be identical to one Jaune had in _his_ suitcase.

 _That_ led to a stern talking to from his teammate, whom Yang perceived as jealous.

Luckily for her partner, Weiss Schnee's answer wasn't one she preferred to remain quiet about. "I'm religious - and that religion _doesn't_ mix with Halloween." She looked up at Ruby as she zipped up her bag. "I'm celebrating tomorrow, though - Saint's Day."

Ruby tilted her head, not too well versed with the subject. The Schnee took the true meaning behind it and sighed.

"Halloween is the modern version of the day before Saint's Day," Weiss elaborated, standing from her table and moving her bag over to rest at the front foot of her and Yang's bed, "it's when evil spirits'll run around."

Yang raised her head from under her pillow, and shot out as quickly as she could, "You mean they're _hangin'_ around?" She finger gunned at the girl, an _ehh~_ emanating from her in mirth. Ruby groaned, one eye peeking through her fingers at Weiss, suspecting she had a retort.

" _Yangin'_ around," she countered with a smile to rival the blonde brawler.

She groaned in annoyance and turned over in her bed.

"And so the _Yangs_ have turned in my favor."

"At least you aren't going to wreck another table," Yang grumbled.

"If you break a table into splinters, does it become multiple tab _lettes_?"

"Weiss!" Ruby squeaked, red tinting on her cheeks. "Please, _stop!_ "

Weiss' grin turned feral, "I-"

She was cut off by a knock at the door and her eyes narrowed to neutral, smile thinning to her natural stoic attitude before going to answer it. "How a- _door_ -able."

"Shut up, Weiss," Yang said despondently, not even finding the energy to mad at her anymore.

"You can't _handle_ the truth." She turned the knob exaggeratedly to open the door and found Jaune on the other side, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Pun war," Weiss replied, and Jaune only nodded his head like he understood. "What's up, Jaune?" she asked.

"The ceiling," he replied immediately, causing Yang to groan loudly. He winced. "That bad, huh?" He shook his head while the sisters shook each other in annoyance with their success rate. "Wanna head to breakfast early?" he offered, face curious and betraying little emotion.

Weiss mulled over the prospects for a moment before conceding. "Sure," Weiss nodded, "Let me just get my things and I'll meet you there." She spun around and headed back to the desk to grab her items. Ruby had already produced her gamepad from her own bag to play a game and Yang continued to wallow in despair on her bed. Weiss just went on her way, accompanied by Jaune the whole way.

* * *

 **Location:** _1st Year History Classroom, Beacon Academy_

 **Time:** _1:22 AN_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Elias Arc_

* * *

"Joan d'Arc was a warrior," began Professor Oobleck, "she travelled to Vale after the Revolutionary War by order of the Vacoan Council to negotiate the terms of their recognition of our independent state as a Kingdom." He zoomed from place to place, green glyphs occasionally appearing under his feet, and took several opportunities to take a sip from his large thermos.

Jaune did not write down the material, and neither did Weiss beside him. Occasionally, though, he'd lean over his partner's notes, critically scrutinize them, before pushing her hands away to erase the information. Pyrrha had become used to this, as her ears weren't as well developed as his to catch what the professor was saying quickly enough to write it all down. He corrected the information with his own handwriting.

"During her stay, and between negotiation times, she'd travel down to the courts of Vale to determine whether they were worth being recognized - for a kingdom is borne by the strength of its politicians. It was there that she met Anthony Alexander Almilta."

* * *

 _"Hello," she greeted, looking up into his brother's eyes, fairly sparkling in her turquoise set of eyes as she gazed at him adoringly. "You are the lawyer defending Levy Beach, are you not?"_

 _"I am," Anthony smiled. "Anthony Alexander Almilta - long, just_ rolls off the tongue _; surely, you love it."_

 _"Ah, I do," he raised his hand and she took it - slightly taken aback when he pressed a kiss to it. She then giggled into the fist of her hand._

 _"I'm going to leave," Elias excused himself, hardly entertained by the romantic union and stepping away. The forming couple hadn't bothered to acknowledge him - should they have noticed him at all, invested in each other as they were._

 _"My name is Joan d'Arc," she introduced herself, "the envoy from Vacuo determining whether you're worth recognizing." She sauntered up beside Anthony who was too startled to reply, staring at her; mouth agape. "I'm starting to think you are, with that speech you made mid-trial."_

 _Eventually, he smiled, regaining his footing, "If I had to go to war to meet you," he began, hooking his hand around her arm and pulling her close. Elias could tell, even from a distance, that she was pleased to be flush against him by the quiet squeal that left her lips, "then it might have been worth it."_

 _Elias smiled._

* * *

"Mr. Arc!"

A smack resonated before him, and he resisted removing a knife to stab forward, instead reeling back in surprise. He noticed Weiss' eye on him, silently questioning.

"Answer the question!"

He turned to Weiss for a minute before she mouthed _Beach's Trial conclusion._

He turned back to the professor, who was directly before him and had watched the exchange with a calculating gaze, and sighed. "Levy Beach walked away free, and was later proven not guilty due to Cameone Balta confessing to the murder."

Professor Oobleck, ire mitigated somewhat, leaned back into a straightened position, glare still set firmly on Jaune. "Not many first years are that well versed in this information."

Jaune sat back in his chair and sighed.

* * *

 _"I told you he was innocent."_

 _"Yes, yes, and that speech of yours definitely raised a lot of attention, if not just_ handing _your opponent that ammunition."_

 _"He missed his shot," Anthony gloated, flexing his arms unnecessarily, "I won't throw mine away - never."_

 _"You always have."_

 _"No, I haven't!"_

* * *

"I like history," Jaune admitted finally after some silence, betraying no emotion as he looked into the eye of the professor.

"I can see that on your quizzes and tests, Mr Arc," he leaned forward, "but that doesn't mean you can fall asleep in my class."

"I'll need coffee to fix that."

The professor was silent a moment, before disappearing and reappearing with a cup of joe in his hand. Jaune, surprised at the gesture, silently accepted it, before narrowing his eyes. "This is really, _really_ cold.

"It's what you get for falling asleep in my class," Oobleck said vindictively, before zooming away.

* * *

 _"That's what you get for falling asleep in the middle of an encounter."_

 _"It's just a small cut," Elias defended himself, "I reacted quickly enough."_

 _"Not fast enough." Elias winced as his brother lightly clapped his shoulder, burning in pain._

* * *

 **Date:** _Sometime in the 1400s_

 **Time:** _12:03 IM_

 **POV 1:** _third, limited, Elias Almilta_

 **POV 2:** _third, limited, Anthony Arc_

* * *

It was the middle of the night and none had disturbed the small home on the hill, except the one individual - or many - who had decided to knock on his door, waking him. Tired, he moved to light several candles on the way to the door, as well as the one he held in his hand to light his path. He finally opened it to find his brother on the other side.

"Anthony?" he queried, curious as to the intrusion. A quick breeze knocked him out of his stupor and he quickly - and roughly - pulled his brother inside. "Inside, inside," he said quickly, "'fore you catch a cold, brother."

His brother's teeth chattered as his brother removed a freezing coat and hanged it up nearby on the coat hanger stand. He brought his brother into the kitchen, quickly lighting that area, too, as he began to prepare a drink for his brother.

"The Missus kick you out, brother?" he asked tentatively, not quite believing the possibility himself. Joan was always kind.

"Nay," Anthony replied, and Elias let out a quick breath of relief. "I came here to request your aid," he admitted, sheepishly.

He swirled the beverage, some alcohol mixed with an old solution their late grandmother used to make for them as children. He placed a sugar inside, just as Anthony liked it, and placed it on a saucer. He scooted it over to Anthony as he sat across from. "Well, tis the middle of the night, brother," Elias lightly complained to lift the mood, before clasping his hands together. Anthony drank from his cup, and for what his jibe earlier was worth, Anthony chuckled quietly.

A few moments pass in silence before Elias decides to push the issue, one he greatly suspects. "Is this a legal matter?" he quizzed, twiddling his thumbs in anxiousness and a little boredom. Ennui had been his friend for the better half of a month in his home - he'd like some other form of entertainment than training, thank you.

"Yes, and it's important to me," Anthony answered, with much more conviction, and Elias tilted his head, not quite surprised but more curiously.

"What do you need?" Elias began to calculate the many things he could do to help his brother, but before he could suggest anything himself, his brother began to ramble.

"Look," he said, roughly placing his drink back onto the saucer, now frantic as he leaned forward. Elias had to resist the urge to lean back in response. "I'm not the best at this _public_ thing," he admitted, "I'm abrasive, easily provoked, enthusiastic, _hysterical_ \- you," he motioned to his brother, who tilted his head in prompt, "you're _incredible_ in court, succinct; persuasive; I-"

"Brother," Elias interrupted the extolation, moving to place a hand on his back supportingly, "just breathe, and take a sip of your drink." When he noticed it was quickly emptying, he moved to gather the kettle he'd poured it from.

After he poured his brother more of his drink, he placed the kettle down upon a plate of his own, sat down, and motioned for him to continue.

"My client needs a _strong_ defense, you're the solution," he indicated to him.

"Who's your client?" Elias asked, secretly dreading the answer.

At this point, Anthony had shrivelled up, sheepish in his answer. "The new Valen Constitution?"

Immediately, Elias stood, sighing, "No," he retorted immediately.

"Hear me out!" Anthony chased after him.

"No way!" Elias shouted, agitated and heading for the door.

"I want to write a series of essays for the public defending it!" Anthony continued.

Elias screwed up his facial features, shaking his head. "No one will read that, and even if they do, it'll fail," he argued.

"I disagree," Anthony stood tall.

"The Constitution is a mess!" Elias waved his hands in exaggeration.

"It can get amended," Anthony shot back, passion giving way to irritation with his brother's stubbornness.

"It's full of contradictions!"

"So is independence!" Anthony finally raised his voice higher. "This is where the nation begins!"

"No way," he picked up Anthony's jacket and threw it at him. His brother caught it, and, already sensing an impending end to the debate, began putting it on.

But he was also mollified somewhat. "You're making a mistake," he said quietly as he was shoved through the doorway.

"Goodnight," Elias replied curtly, about to close the door, but Anthony had a new surge of determination, placing his foot in the doorway to stop it. Elias growled quietly and narrowed his eyes when his brother pried the door back open.

"Why are you so stagnant in the creation of our nation?" he queried. "We won the war, brother!" He stepped within Elias' personal space, causing him to reel back a step. "Do you support the Constitution?!"

"Of course," Elias pressed forward.

Anthony crashed his head against Elias', forcing him back again. "Then defend it!"

Elias raised his head again to meet his brother's. "And what if it's the wrong thing to support?!"

"Brother, we've studied together, we've fought together, you _died_ for this nation." Elias had the audacity to appear flustered at the information, but since no one was around, the information was free to roam between them. "We've _killed_ together! Now it's time for us to build with our new found freedom!" He ground his teeth. "I just don't understand how you can just stand and watch without doing anything!"

"That's _my_ business!" Elias roared, shoving Anthony out of the doorway he'd intruded upon twice. "I'm going to just _watch_ this nation as it either rises or _burns to the ground_ , but you will _never_ find me spouting _nonsense like you do!_ I'm just here," he breathed more calmly, "watching the tension grow." He slammed the door.

* * *

 **Location:** _1st Year History Classroom, Beacon Academy_

 **Time:** _1:34 AN_

 **POV:** _third, limited, Elias Arc_

* * *

Oobleck continued as Jaune tuned back into class after his reminiscing of his firm rebuttal to his brother. "Anthony Arc then did everything in his power to gain aid from old and new friends alike and _two_ answered his call. Does anyone know who they are?" His eyes scanned the students.

Jaune raised his hand. _"Of course I know who they are,"_ he thought to himself.

"Mr Arc, if this is an attempt to get out of detention, you're gravely mistaken."

"I'll write you 85 essays."

Oobleck readjusted his glasses. "You have 24 hours to do it, then."

"I'll do it in six."

Oobleck hardened his gaze. "You are not allowed to allocate it amongst your teammates."

"Eighteen hours," Jaune bargained, and Oobleck sighed when some of the students who understood what was going on giggled and chuckled at the exchange.

"Who were the two that helped him, Mr Arc?"

Jaune smiled. "Azure Jay and Jameson Mattleston."

"Top marks."

"Do I still have to do the essays?"

"No. You're still in detention; essays or not. You will only gain side credit for it."

Jaune pouted.

Weiss sniggered beside him.

* * *

 **End Chapter 4**

* * *

 _I'll do better next time._

* * *

 **Comments:**

 **Sm0keyPanda:** "I can definitely see myself enjoying this ifc in its entirety. Keep it up!

 **KarimHD:** "I am just hoping for quick updates otherwise it's a cool concept."

 **Reply:** "Thank you both kindly, for your comments. As for you, Karim, I'm running behind on this, and I apologized, but I also _don't_ apologize.

"Laziness." *shrugs*

 **Josh Spicer:** "Slow movin huh?

"I get it, a story like this would make due with chapters going just an inch further, but at the same time, we're still kind of stuck here with basic knowledge and more questions.

"Ren and Blake meeting like that was weird, especially since it sounds like they're working together outside of Beacon and that Ren knows-for the most part-what Jaune's planning.

"I don't mind Jaune and Weiss' present characters, although all three chapters seem to hold something different. The first chapter was them being pervs to Pyrrha (okay, cool). The second one was Weiss being punny with Yang and otherwise just continuing a theme from the first one (okay). This one seemed more to hint at the future than do anything in the present.

"Seems kinda all over the place right now. Maybe once things get going it'll ground itself, but it seems high on concept alone at the moment."

 **Reply:** "It's a bit slow, yeah, since I'm still developing the whole thing.

"As you're indicating through those paragraphs, yes, it's all over the place. It's more of a concept rather than a real story, which will come out soon. This chapter was more references than actual plot, so yeah. If you want the real story, you'll have to wait until "A Pair of Immortals" or better yet, just "Immortals" comes out, since I'm also debating on either one of those two names.

"I am literally only throwing out conceptual ideas over an actual story. I've mentioned this before. Eventually, the real story will come out, grounded with their allies and enemies. Debating on where to start, if I should jump back and forth between times, or edgy mcedgelord explain the past (which I don't want to do). So, yeah, bear with me, or just wait for the final product to start being written.

"Thanks for the review!"

* * *

 _And now, for the love of God, let the next Fanfiction begin!_


End file.
